


The Thermometer

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Anal Play, M/M, Medical Device, Medical Kink, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes is ill. Watson needs to take his temperature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thermometer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Sickness and Slashers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3189) by elfkin. 



“Here’s another blanket and some tea for you.”

Holmes regarded Watson with bleary eyes, shifting under the layers he’d already accumulated. At least the sofa provided him with a comfortable enough spot to rest when he grew bored of lying in bed, and today he’d even managed to read a bit. Still, he remained uncomfortable, mind weighed down by his physical ailments. Despite constant sweating, Holmes felt quite chilly and shivered as Watson placed the thick quilt upon him. Watson, always neatly dressed and handsome, looked particularly composed in juxtaposition to Holmes’ sickly self, feeling thin and wasted after nearly a week of being able to stomach nothing more than broth.

“Why are you never sick, Watson?” Holmes asked suddenly, reaching for the tea.

“Shhh, you are not quite yourself with this fever,” Watson replied, not merely offering him the cup but bringing it up to his lips. Holmes shot him a dirty look but sipped obediently, reluctant to bring his arms out from under the blankets.

“Really, Watson, I don’t ever recall you being sick,” Holmes continued, pulling his lips away from the rim of the teacup.

“Well, perhaps it’s because I’m a physician and have an uncommonly good knowledge of how to prevent such inconveniences.” He offered Holmes a patronizing smile.

Holmes sulked, envious of how nonchalant Watson remained while Holmes could barely drink his own tea.

“Now,” Watson said, setting aside the tea, “we do need to take your temperature.”

Holmes shifted up from his lazy slump as he saw the instrument Watson produced, apprehension twisting in his already nauseous belly. Most would not have noticed the subtle difference, but this was not quite the same thermometer Watson had used before. A different thermometer signaled a different use, one which Holmes could all too vividly imagine.

“Watson, where is your other thermometer?” Holmes rasped, trying to inch away to the other side of the sofa.

“Now, Holmes, unnecessary movement will do you no good. Stay where you are.” Holmes was loathe to follow anyone’s instructions, but the shift was indeed emphasizing how sore and tired he was, and his weakness made him feel meek.

“No, Watson, I really would rather not…” Holmes’ voice trailed off as Watson began to remove the blankets and pile them beside him. His stomach clenched as Watson’s hands wandered along his dressing gown and Watson leaned in, breath warm on Holmes’ ear.

“I have to say, Holmes, your helplessness is rather appealing,” Watson whispered, beginning to stroke Holmes’ neck.

Holmes shivered. He wasn’t quite sure what Watson was getting at, but he was fairly sure he didn’t like it. If Watson was going to touch him, it should be when they were both well, when Holmes’ mind wasn’t spinning in a feverish haze, when Holmes had the strength to reach out for Watson.

Whatever Holmes may have wanted, Watson wasn’t waiting for his approval nor for his assistance. Watson was pushing Holmes down onto the couch, pressing Holmes’ face against the mess of blankets. One hand slid along Holmes’ leg, pushing the dressing gown up as it went. Holmes bit his lip as Watson reached up his thighs.

“I say, Watson,” Holmes breathed, trying to sound calm, “is that really necessary?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. Medically necessary.”

Watson paused for a moment - applying lubricant, Holmes presumed. He gasped as his hypothesis was confirmed, one cold, slick end of the thermometer pressing against his entrance.

“Hold still and relax,” Watson suggested.

Even without seeing his expression, Holmes could tell Watson was far too amused by this. He frowned, but there was nothing he could do. Weakly, he wiggled his hips, uselessly attempting to move away from it, but Watson grabbed his thigh firmly.

“Holmes, I said hold still. In a moment, you’ll feel much better.”

The thermometer was icy as it slid in, uncomfortable inside of Holmes’ tight arse even with the lubrication. He shook his head wearily and tried to protest again.

“Watson, please…”

“I’m sorry, Holmes, but it’s for your own good.”

The thermometer was a few inches in now, and Watson gave it one final adjustment. Holmes gasped as it bumped against his prostate.

“What was that, Holmes? I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’ll take a minute to get the reading.”

With his extensive knowledge of human anatomy, there was no way Watson could have really mistaken Holmes’ reaction for discomfort. Sure enough, as if he knew exactly what Holmes was feeling and wished nothing more than to prod him further, Watson moved it again, angling it so it pressed ever-so-gently up against that spot. Holmes cringed, but Watson gripped his thighs tightly, practically massaging Holmes’ muscles as he held them. It was utterly embarrassing as Holmes could no longer deny his arousal. His body, so useless and disobedient in its illness, betrayed him in one more way as his cock stirred.

All too soon, it was over and Watson was speaking with calm professionalism again.

“Still too high, I’m afraid,” Watson stated as he pulled the thermometer out. “We’ll have to check again tomorrow.” He rearranged the dressing gown and helped the other man back to a sitting position. Holmes was painfully aware that he was still blushing and sweating more than ever, but Watson busied himself with piling the blankets back on.

“Of course, my dear Watson,” Holmes mumbled. “Again tomorrow. And thank you for the tea.”

Watson shot him a positively unfair smirk and sauntered off to clean the thermometer.


End file.
